


Married Life

by poorwayfairingstranger



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Dead Body, Death, Hospitals, M/M, MCD, Major character death - Freeform, Train accident, Voicemails, ahhh shit here we go again, greif
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:27:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poorwayfairingstranger/pseuds/poorwayfairingstranger
Summary: Thomas Blake gets in an accident, and Will gets a single voicemail from him. The voicemail will change everything.
Relationships: Tom Blake & William Schofield, Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Married Life

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! Second fic ever teehee. also i wrote this in like. a few hours dont bully me. if i have spelling mistakes, comment them. anyway god hates gays and i had this idea for angst so i had to write it. possible fluffy fic and definite longfic coming soon monkey covering its eyes emoji.
> 
> shoutout to everyone in the second devons discird, i kiss all of your foreheads
> 
> warnings for major character death, train accident, seeing a dead body, and lots of crying.
> 
> enjoy :)

The day of the accident started like every other one. Will and Tom woke up in each other’s arms, the music of Will’s phone alarm cutting through the quiet atmosphere. They groaned, and Tom reached over his husband to click the off button. He nuzzled back into Will’s bare chest, humming with satisfaction.

“Tom,” Will groaned quietly, “Get off. We have to get up.”

“I don’t wanna…” Tom mumbled, his fingers dancing across Will’s chest and stomach. 

“We do this every morning, just get up and you’ll feel fine.”

After another few minutes of coaxing, Will got Tom out of their bed with mention of breakfast. He made his way down the hall to their small kitchenette as Tom got dressed in his uniform. Khaki pants and a soft yellow t-shirt with a white apron pulled over it. He would be working out in the market today, selling goods from his bakery. Cupcakes, pies, cookies, the whole lot. His small cafe was quite popular in their remote town, most of his customers being regulars. Smells of frying eggs and better on banana bread wafted down the hall, making Tom’s stomach rumble. He walked into the kitchen, seeing Will softly humming to himself as he cooked. He swayed on his feet and bounced his head to the beat of whatever song he was singing. 

Will jumped when he felt Tom’s cold hands on his abdomen, the shorter man’s hair tickling Will’s back. Tom pressed a kiss into the defined muscles of his back, hands moving to his waist. 

“I made some eggs, and the banana bread from last night is in the microwave.” He smiled and leaned into Tom’s arms gently. They stayed there for a moment, peaceful in the morning glow of the kitchen. Tom in his work uniform, Will in some loose pajama pants, the smell of sugar and bananas tickling their noses. The two ate quickly, so Tom wouldn’t be late for work. He was grabbing his stuff and about to run out the door when Will held him back, giving him a small peck on the lips. Will went in for another kiss, but Tom rushed out. 

“Sorry babes, gonna be late.” He looked back over his shoulder, flashing Will a smile. “Love ya’!”

-

Tom just barely made it on the tube, doors shutting behind him and almost clamping down on his shirt. He moved to sit down in a corner with not many people, relishing in the quietness of the train that morning. Usually it was buzzing with noise, but today was different. Although, the longer it went on the more uneasy Tom started to feel. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but there was a small flip in his stomach that told him something was off. Tom pushed it out of his mind and picked up his phone, starting to play a game. He opened and closed the app, checked his social medias, and finally went to text Will. He typed out a message, but deleted it and called him instead. The dial tone rang in his ear until he heard Will’s familiar message. ‘This is William Schofield! Sorry I can’t get to the phone right now, call me back.’ Tom sighed, deciding to leave a message anyway. The noise in the tube had picked up to a quiet buzz, but Tom still whispered into the phone. He didn’t want to worry any eavesdroppers.

“Hey babes, it’s Tom, obviously,” He chuckled, but it sounded choked out and worried, “I just wanted to call you because.... Oh I don’t even know. I’m on the tube, but I just feel like something is wrong. Got this gut feeling, my chest felt all tight. I’m not even anxious about work, it’s a normal day,” his voice wobbled as he continued to talk quietly, “Jesus what’s wrong with me…? Sorry I- this was a bad idea. Anyway, if something happens, I love you. And if it’s nothing- which is probably the more likely situation- then I will see you later. Not that if something doesn’t happen I don’t love you, you know what I-” 

The sound of metal against metal screamed through the air as everyone was thrown forward, the ‘end call’ button tapping against Tom’s thumb.

-

Will wrapped the towel around his waist as he hopped out of the shower, tossing the wet hair from his eyes. A notification popped up on his phone.

1 Missed Call from ‘My Tommy <3’  
1 Voicemail from ‘My Tommy <3’

Will’s eyes narrowed slightly. That’s weird, He thought, Tom never leaves me messages. 

He typed in his passcode and turned up the volume, playing the message out loud. Will laughed at the pet name that Tom used. The smile fell when he heard the fear in Tom’s voice, how his voice quivered. He closed the voicemail app briefly and texted Tom.

‘U okay?’

He resumed the message. Tom sounded scared, his breaths becoming shallow and panicked. It was easy for Tom to become scared, sometimes he frightened himself over nothing. But Will could tell there really was something. 

Tears rose to his eyes at the last few seconds of the message. The loud screech, the collective noise that the other passengers made, the cry from Tom interrupted by the voicemail ending. Will rewound it and listened to it again and again, just the last few moments. He texted Tom again.

‘I just got your voicemail. Everything okay? Please answer im worried. Love u <3’

Will was starting to panic. It had been about twenty minutes since his initial call and subsequent voicemail. Tom hadn’t called him back or texted him. Will sat in the kitchen, towel still loosely hanging around his hips. He nervously picked at the half-eaten banana bread left on his plate as he searched his phone for any other update of Tom’s safety. He hasn’t been active on Instagram since before the voicemail, and still hasn’t answered his texts. Will decided to send him one more. 

‘Please answer me love if this is a joke it’s not funny’

He turned on the TV to distract himself. Another twenty minutes passed before a news update flashed on the notification bar of his phone. 

“BREAKING NEWS: SUBWAY CRASH INJURES FIFTY, MAN PRESUMED TO BE DEAD”

Will’s hands trembled as he opened the notification, turning in the local news channel. Sure enough, there was Tom’s stop. Tears quickly fell from Will’s eyes, unable to be stopped. Even if Tom wasn’t dead, he wasn’t responding to messages or calls. Will shot up from the couch, unable to stop himself. He paced around, continuously calling Tom. Then he called Lauri, the baker's assistant up at the cafe. When she said Tom hasn’t shown up yet, Will broke down. He hung up the phone, no explanation and no apology for being awkward. Grabbing his coat and making sure his phone ringer was on, Will made his way down to the tube station. He couldn’t get through the doors, police lines the entrance. Nobody could go in or out. Will pushed his way to the front, approaching an officer. 

“Please, can you tell me what happened. My husband was on this stop.” He begged, tears in his eyes and throat hoarse from crying. 

“My apologies sir,” The officer replied, “But I’m not allowed to disclose any information. Now if you would please step back, we need to keep the crowd at a distance. He turned to the group of people. “Everyone please, this way for a detour. Stand back if you aren’t taking the detour.”

Will turned on his heels and made his way down the street, eventually running to where Tom’s stop would have been. Despite the cool fall air, he was drenched with sweat and shaking. Will’s lungs burned and he had to stop to breathe. Down the street, flashes of police and ambulance cars bounced off the building. Yellow crime scene tape was cornering the entrance and Will saw many people walking out covered in dust. People bleeding from their heads, their arms, their legs. Still no Tom. Every person that came out was unrecognizable to Will, and each person that wasn’t his husband made the tears in his eyes harder to hold back. There was a large crowd of people, around 100 people. Some were screaming or crying, others were searching around and reuniting with their friends and family. Will felt alone, but he had to keep up hope. Maybe Tom had gotten out before Will got there. Yeah, that was the only reasonable explanation. He was sitting in an ambulance somewhere, or even just walking around trying to find him. Maybe his phone died. 

So Will waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually the police started to clear out and let people back into the station. But there was still no information on what happened. There were lost lives, people still missing. There were people in critical condition, and people who were just injured and needed very little medical assistance. So Will made his way to the hospital. Still calling Tom and sending him messages. 

‘Please text me when you get these. I'm so worried. I love you’  
‘Please be safe’  
‘Come back to me’

Yet his messages to Tom were left on delivered or wouldn’t go through. The panic started again, a tightening in his chest that spread through his body, making his fingers feel tingly. He rocked on the heels of his feet, rubbing his arms to keep himself calm. Nothing was working, the tears threatening to spill out any minute.

It was two hours before Will got to the front of the line, asking for Tom’s name. The kind woman at the front desk apologized for the wait and checked her computer. She sighed and frowned slightly. 

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have a Thomas Blake here currently.” She offered a tired smile, apparent that she had been doing this all day, and despite his own detrimental issues, Will felt bad for the woman. He gave her a curt nod and went back towards their flat. There were no thoughts of Tom, just thinking about putting one foot in front of the other. Walking up the stairs, opening the door, calling for Tom even though Will knew he wasn’t there. Finally, the tears came. Fat drops that poured down his face at an insanely quick pace, falling into his mouth and nose, dripping onto his shirt. Will sniffed and wiped his eyes for a few minutes. 

The next two days were filled with crying, waiting, and going back and forth from the hospital. Eventually, Will got a phone call from the hospital.

“Hello, Mr. Schofield, my name is Dr. Miller and we are calling you on behalf of Thomas Blake.”

Will shot up from his place on the couch and muted the news on the TV. 

“I- Yes- Yes, I know Tom. I’m his husband.” Will answered, ignoring the way his voice faltered saying his name. 

“We would like you to come down to the North Medical City Hospital, we have important news regarding Mr. Blake.” The man replied. Will frowned, but pulled on his shoes and ran out the door, thanking the doctor. He was going to see Tom soon. Soon.

-

Mrs.Blake and Joe lived an hour away from the city that Will and Tom lived in, but nonetheless they were on their way to the hospital. It was another two hours of waiting before the nurse came out of the back room and sat the three down.

“Martha Blake, Joseph Blake? You are the mother and brother of Thomas Blake, correct? And William Schofield, you are the husband?” Both families nod hesitantly. “Thomas Blake was involved in the subway crash a few nights ago, and suffered blunt force trauma to the head, alone with burns on his lower body and arms due to fire after the crash. He was put into a medically induced coma when he arrived in order to be able to identify him. Mr. Blake was pronounced dead at seven-oh-nine this morning.”

Mrs. Blake let out a loud sob, a guttural noise from deep within her. Joe sniffled and wiped his eyes before wrapping an arm around his mom. Will sat silently. His chest burned and his heart pounded in his ears. Tears fell from his eyes, but not as intensely as the previous two nights. Will didn’t think he could cry any harder, and he was trying to keep it together for Tom’s family.

The nurse turned to Will.

“Mr. Schofield, would you be able to identify the body, or would you rather Mrs. Blake do so?” She asked, writing something on her clipboard.

Will couldn’t handle putting any more stress onto Mrs. Blake, she was already an incoherent sobbing mess. So he followed the nurse to a backroom, the hospital morgue. It was a cold room, almost identical to the normal hospital waiting room they were just in. The nurse unlocks a door and takes him down a long, barren hallway. Finally, a door at the end. She stops before unlocking the final door. 

“There’s going to be bruising on him, the walls caved in and he was closest to the front. I’m going to pull the sheet up from his face so you can be able to properly identify him, and then I can give you a moment if you need one.” She gave Will an awkward pat on the shoulder, before reaching down to her key ring and unlocking the door. 

The room was painted an offwhite color, the grey tiles squeaking under the two’s shoes. In the middle, there was a table and Tom’s figure was prominent underneath it. Will could tell, the hours he had spent gazing at Tom while he slept peacefully, his hair falling in his face and a slight snore. Will wanted nothing more than to be home with Tom, in their bed, holding him close. But instead, he was holding Tom’s cold hand. His left arm was poking out of the white sheet, bruised and burned. His skin was charred and peeling, but his hand was cold. It was so cold. 

Tom was a warm person, inside and out. He was bubbly and smiling, always affectionate and kind. He would hold Will when he cried, smooth his hair and kiss him gently. Whisper encouraging words in his ear. Tom would make dinner for them, swaying along to the music he chose that night, talking to Will about work or a TV show he watched. Tom made even the most mundane things interesting and new and fun. He was the sun to Will’s world, a bright shining star in the sky. Will always figured that his star would go out with a bang, but even the brightest of stars fizzle out and die sometimes. 

The nurse lifted up the white sheet to reveal Tom’s face. Will couldn’t tell if his first impulse was to vomit or to cry. He held back both, searching his face. The left side of his face was black and blue, he was barely recognizable. There was some stitching done to his eyes, and his mouth fell slightly agape. 

“Thomas Blake?” She asked quietly.

“Yes.”

The nurse left without another word, standing quietly outside the door. 

“Oh my god, Tommy.” Will’s voice was weak and broken. He sank to his knees as he gripped Tom’s hand. “Please… I’m so sorry. Oh my god, baby, it should have been me.... It should have been me. Why do you have to leave me here like this?” He choked out a sob, more tears falling. “Please, why didn’t you come back to me. Come back to me, Tommy. Please.” Will was growing quite hysterical, trembling and clutching Tom’s hand in a death grip. He wanted so badly for Tom to squeeze back, to sit up and hug him and tell him It’s okay, my love, I’m right here, you’re safe, I’m okay.

But he just lay there, black and blue and different shades of gray, mouth agape and eyes stitched shut. 

Will said his final goodbye, kissing Tom’s hand softly. He didn’t think he was allowed to do that but he did it anyway. His beautiful Tom, about to be six feet underground. 

-

Going home was the hardest. Tom’s shoes by the doorway, his coat on the hanger, the copy of Whinnie the Pooh he loved to reread for the childhood nostalgia. 

Will walked into the kitchen, having not eaten in days. He saw the half-eaten piece of banana bread. Will walked over shakily and picked up the plate before throwing it against the wall with a scream. He sunk to the floor, wailing cries cutting through the quiet air. They were painful, scratching his throat and stinging his eyes. His entire body shook with the violent sobs and he held himself, arms wrapped around his body.

“Why, Tom, why you? It should have been me.”  
Will pulled out his phone, being greeted with a smiling picture of Tom, a candid laughing shot that Will got when they were out feeding birds down in the park. A pigeon got close to him, close enough to eat out of his hand. Tom’s nose scrunched up and his eyes crinkled, mouth in a wide smile mid-laugh. Will smiled bittersweetly, but the influx of tears blurred his vision. He typed in his password, Tom’s birthday. Going to the phone app. He called Tom, and the call went straight to voicemail. 

Tom had one of those fake-out voicemails, where it sounded like he answered the phone.

“Hello this is Tom!.... Hey!...Can you hear me?.... Haha just kidding, it’s a voicemail. Call me back.” then the dial tone. Will stayed silent. He hung up the phone and called again.

“Hello this is Tom!-”

“Hi baby,” Will sobbed out, laying down against the cold wood floor. 

“Hey!... Can you hear me?” Will could hear himself laughing in the background, and he remembered the day Tom made it.

“Yeah, I can hear you, angle,” He called Tom the familiar name, but almost screamed again when he realized the horribly dark irony of the statement.

“Call me back.” The dial tone again. Will spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Come back to us.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed that, twas painful to write. just love to traumatize my favorite characters <3
> 
> n e ways follow me on tumblr @poor-wayfairing-stranger


End file.
